Читать книгу Hot Arabian Nights - Marguerite Kaye - Страница 15
ОглавлениеAction, Azhar resolved, action was what was required to demonstrate to Julia that he was right and she was quite wrong. Yes, three weeks was ambitious, but where there was a will, anything could be achieved, and he had a will of iron. Curse Julia and her doubts and her endless questions.
He stopped his furious pacing and gazed out of the window. He was not thinking straight. Her assertion that his conscience would not allow him to stay away from Qaryma was of course nonsense, but there was no harm in admitting, just to himself, that he did care for the kingdom where he had been born and raised. He did care for the people too. He wished for them only the king they deserved, a king who wanted to reign, and who was fit to reign. Not a king who saw his kingdom as a millstone around his neck. Not a king who had abandoned them ten years ago. And who would leave again in three weeks’ time, for ever.
He pushed open the window that led on to his private terrace, taking his coffee with him. As far as Kamal was concerned though, he should be viewing the points Julia raised in a positive light. Shortcomings which could be addressed, not fatal flaws which could not.
Actions. Azhar knew exactly what actions he would take. Summoning a servant, he rattled off a series of commands. The fresh perspective which he’d asked Julia to provide was already paying dividends.
* * *
Having spent the morning writing up her notes, one of her least favourite and most neglected tasks, Julia had eaten some fruit for lunch and fallen asleep on the couch in her sitting room. When Aisha shook her gently awake she was confused, the beginnings of a headache niggling behind her eyes from the sun streaming through the curtains she had left open. It took her a good five minutes to understand that Azhar required her presence in a room whose name she couldn’t translate but which was located in the Second Court.
At Aisha’s insistence, she changed her crumpled clothing for a matching tunic and pantaloons in navy blue, a sky-blue scarf fastened over her face as she made her way through the palace. By the time she arrived at the Second Court, hurrying after the huge sentry, Julia was beginning to wonder if Azhar had decided he’d had enough of the honesty he’d demanded from her, and was having her expelled from Qaryma.
The huge door slammed shut behind her and the scene before her convinced Julia that she was right. Though the chamber was much smaller than the Divan, and in a way more ornate, the air was oppressive with authority. The walls were panelled and painted, the ceiling vaulted and tiled, the floor marble. In the centre, the throne was more like a low chair with clawed feet covered in gold leaf. And on the throne sat Azhar in a white-silk tunic and cloak. His headdress was also white, though the headband which kept it in place seemed to be made of golden rope.
Hovering in the doorway, Julia pushed back her veil. ‘You look extremely regal,’ she said. ‘What is this place? Ought I to kneel?’
Azhar got to his feet, extending his hand in welcome. ‘It is the Hall of Pleas, and of course you should not kneel.’
‘You mean it is a court room. Am I on trial?’
‘Have you committed a crime?’
She returned his smile uncertainly. ‘Some of the things I said to you yesterday about your brother were treasonable.’
‘But some of them were valid,’ Azhar said, ‘and as such, needed acting upon. This morning I had a formal audience with Kamal here. I have started to put measures into place to address your legitimate concerns.’
Julia surveyed the room, the throne, the Prince in front of her. ‘You dressed up to give your brother a dressing down.’
Azhar smiled faintly. ‘I thought a show of authority was in order to remind my brother that my word is final, my orders brook no challenge.’
‘The first time I saw you, you were sitting on a camel dressed in the clothes of a nomad, yet there was something about you that made me think—oh, I don’t know,’ Julia said. ‘I suppose what I mean is, you don’t require clothes or a throne to intimidate or exude natural authority, Azhar.’
‘Julia, you have singularly failed to be intimidated by me regardless of my attire, for which I profoundly thank you. Now, I do not have much time. I have summoned Council to assemble in an hour. The first of my actions, of which I hope you will approve.’
Approve! Azhar had never asked for her approval before. He had probably used the word inadvertently.
‘I have ordered Kamal to resume the thrice-weekly meetings,’ Azhar was saying now. ‘A weak ruler—and you notice I do not deny that my brother is weak—needs a strong Council to bolster his reign. I intend to review the membership before I leave too, to ensure that he has the wisest and most trusted advisers possible.’
‘Excellent decision,’ Julia said, because Azhar seemed to require something from her.
It seemed to be sufficient, for he smiled. ‘Then there is the matter of re-establishing the security of the border,’ Azhar continued. ‘The actions to be taken will be as follows.’
He proceeded to list a good many. Julia marvelled at his eye for detail and his memory for tasks. It was almost as if Azhar was putting measures in place to prevent his own return.
‘The issue of the falling diamond yield still troubles me. There is something I am missing, I am sure of it. I have resolved to visit the other mines. I hope you will accompany me. We will go further east, where the terrain is very different—you should find some new species worthy of your attention, and I would value your insights into—whatever we may uncover.’
‘I will do what I can, though my lack of Arabic...’
‘As an artist, you have an eye for detail, Julia, that much is apparent in those beautiful paintings you produce.’
‘Thank you, but I am really only a competent draughtsman, nothing more.’
‘You call yourself a draughtsman, but you are a true artist. I thought you were resolved to refrain from demeaning yourself and your talents.’
‘Very well, I am an artist,’ Julia said, ‘and my artistic eye is at your disposal. How far are the mines from Al-Qaryma?’
‘Far enough to require that we spend two nights away from the palace. We will camp in the desert.’
‘Shall we be travelling—you will no doubt be expected to travel with a large caravan?’
‘This is not a royal procession. We will be travelling unaccompanied.’
Two nights under the stars. Alone with Azhar. The prospect was both thrilling and slightly scary. What if their journey led to their other intimate journey progressing? To what undiscovered and magical places might that lead them? With Azhar as her guide the voyage was bound to be as exciting as the destination.
She shivered, then remembered the real point of their trip. ‘I am flattered, Azhar. I appreciate the honour you have done me by confiding in me. Can you rely on Kamal to implement your instructions while you are temporarily absent?’
Azhar’s frown was back in place. ‘He was naturally defensive, he certainly was inclined to view my suggestions as criticisms, but he did not refuse to co-operate.’
‘Kamal has no option but to co-operate,’ Julia said. ‘As far as Kamal is concerned, you are his future King.’ Azhar drew her one of his intimidating looks, but she simply glared back at him. ‘Wasn’t that the point of dressing up, of choosing this court room for the audience?’
‘What matters is his co-operation. I have achieved that,’ Azhar said stiffly.
And all at once, Julia saw the fundamental flaw in his logic. It was so simple, so obvious, she couldn’t believe she had not spotted it before. Azhar thought his brother weak, but he did not doubt his good faith. Or he would not doubt it. When Azhar left, Kamal would be King. A weak man who was also an honest man would be grateful for the checks and balances and props that Azhar had put in place. But a corrupt man would set about dismantling them in an instant.
Julia’s heart sank. Azhar claimed to value his freedom more than anything, but first and foremost he was a man of honour. He would surrender his kingdom to a weak ruler, but he would never leave it in the hands of a corrupt one. She hoped most fervently that their trip into the desert would prove that Kamal was the former, otherwise Azhar would be sealing his own fate.
‘May I take your silence for agreement?’ Azhar asked her.
Julia hesitated only fractionally before nodding.
She was rewarded with a smile in which she was certain she detected an element of relief. ‘I must leave you now,’ Azhar said, ‘I do not wish to arrive late to Council. Contrary to the opinion of some, I have found that tardiness serves not to enhance one’s sense of importance, but rather gives the impression that one does not value the importance of others. Have your maid pack for you. We leave at dawn.’
A brief smile and Azhar was gone, leaving Julia with her second unwelcome insight of the day. It was not a reluctance to contradict him which kept her silent, but a reluctance to hurt him. She was beginning to care about this man, and she would be a fool to allow herself to care more. Whether he remained in Qaryma or not, wed to his kingdom or wed to his business, his future lay a world apart from hers. She had her own future to think of, her own freedom to finalise. This next trip into the desert would move her much closer to completing her collection of species.
Time was running out for her here in this fantastical world. But in the meantime, she resolved to make the most of it. Alone in the desert under the stars, there would surely be the opportunity for another stage of the journey she and Azhar had set out on. A journey she would embrace, not shy away from.
* * *
The sky was a spectacular deep fuchsia pink when they set out at dawn the next day. As the sun climbed slowly above the horizon, it lightened from pink to orange and then suffused gold. Julia had managed to mount her camel fluidly in the Bedouin manner, stepping lightly on its neck, giving her that vital few seconds extra to seat herself before it reared up. Still slightly smug from this success, and concentrating hard on mirroring the swaying rhythm of the beast she rode, for it did not come naturally by any manner of means, she did not notice that she and Azhar had no pack mules with them until they were well clear of the city.
‘We don’t have any tents. And my clothes...’
‘It is taken care of,’ Azhar replied.
‘How? In what way is taken care of?’
He glanced over at her. ‘In the way of a surprise, Julia, nothing more sinister. A series of small treats, to show my gratitude.’
‘Treats? What sort of treats?’
Above the flutter of silk that covered his face, Azhar’s eyes crinkled into a smile. ‘All will be revealed in due course. On any journey patience is a virtue, and enhances the experience. I hope to have the opportunity to demonstrate that to you.’
There was no disguising his meaning. Julia reminded herself that this was not shocking since it was not real, it was fantasy. The world would be real again soon enough. She resolved once again to embrace whatever was to come. She wasn’t shocked, she was excited.
The sky settled into newly minted blue, the sun to pale gold. The desert stretched before them, a vast swathe of undulating sands. Like the sky, the air was newly minted, not yet too bright nor too hot, though it would certainly be both very soon. Julia would never be able to acclimatise herself to the heat in the way the true people of the desert did. She still wilted like a water-starved plant in the blaze of the afternoon sun, and her head still ached if she was foolish enough to stay out in it too long, but she loved the tingle on her skin, that particular combination of dry air and sand that was the essence of the desert. She loved sunrise and sunset. She loved the oddly salty taste of the air as dark descended and the wondrous night sky lit up. She loved the way the landscape shifted and changed before her eyes. And she loved the contrasts, the sifting golden sands and the soft red rocks, the vivid greens of the oases and the exotic variety of crops that grew there. The colours of the clothes and the scents of the markets. She had even come to terms with the distressing variety of noises emitted from her camel, the sour huff and puff of its breath as it carried her, the groaning when she forced it on to its knees, the bleating sound it made when communing with other beasts.
She curled her leg around the pommel, shifted in a vain effort to get more comfortable on the box seat, and looked around her with a contentment so all-consuming she felt she might burst. This was her favourite time of day, when the morning sparkled with promise. Of new places and new experiences. Of new people. Perhaps even new plants.
And beside her, Azhar. Looking at him, she felt her contentment turn to a fizz of excitement. His tunic had pale-blue-and-white stripes today, the boots which clad his long legs dark-blue leather. His cloak was plain white silk, billowing out in the gentle breeze around his muscular frame. His keffiyeh was also white silk, tied with a scarf of dark blue. He sat on the camel with that graceful ease, that unconscious air of command that Julia had noticed from their very first meeting. Azhar did not need a huge caravan to follow him, he did not require a posse of servants or even cloth of gold to proclaim his status. He looked every inch the sovereign.
Despite the fact that his desert clothes covered all but his hands and the top half of his face, he still managed to look quite devastatingly attractive too. Beneath her veil, a smile tugged at Julia’s mouth. This man, this powerful, honourable, quite beautiful man, found her attractive. It astounded her, but she no longer doubted it, and the knowledge thrilled her, imbuing her with a confidence she had never possessed before. So far, this so-called journey of physical exploration of theirs had been focused entirely on her. She had been content—more than content—to allow Azhar to direct it, and to define each destination. Looking at him now, Julia decided to surprise him. She wanted to see him naked. She wanted to see him out of control. The small issue of her utter lack of expertise in such matters momentarily deflated her, but not for long. Instinct, she told herself, would take over, fed by passion. It was the most natural thing in the world, what occurred between a man and a woman. She simply had to let nature—her nature, previously dormant—run its course.
* * *
It took three hours to reach the village, by which time Julia’s mind was far from the night to come, with all its potential excitement, and focused only on keeping her numb bottom securely perched on the boxed saddle. Above them, the sky was now azure blue dotted with white clouds. A mountain range loomed on the far horizon, the jagged rock streaked pink and purple by the sun’s rays. The terrain had become progressively rougher over the last hour, the soft sand giving way to hard-packed mud and coarse gravel. The houses formed from adobe were built into the foothills, a cluster of domed roofs, arched windows and doorways which huddled together for protection. Three palm trees loomed high somewhere behind the houses, their green fronds vivid against the mud brown of the buildings, indicating that there must be an underground well nearby.
They were expected. As Azhar dismounted, Julia was surprised to see a servant wearing the palace colours emerge from the shade to take the reins. She followed suit, managing with relative grace, and the servant took her reins too.
‘This is another of our diamond-mining villages,’ Azhar said, pushing back his headdress to reveal his face.
‘Where is everyone?’ Julia asked, puzzled. ‘Surely you don’t send women and children down the mines?’
Azhar laughed, holding out his arm. ‘This way,’ he said.
She followed him through an archway that she’d taken for a doorway, then stopped short with a gasp of surprise. The village was formed in the shape of a circle. In the centre were the palm trees and the small turquoise pool of the well. A huge silk canopy had been stretched across the space under the palm trees and anchored to the roofs of some of the houses, forming a vast open-sided tent, under which tables laden with food and drink were heaped. The villagers themselves were formed into two rows, men and women and children, in the classic pose of obeisance.
Azhar stepped forward, making the traditional greeting and asking them all to rise. Still standing under the archway, Julia watched as the villagers did as he bid them with some alacrity, rushing forward to surround him in a babble of excited exclamations. She understood almost nothing of what was being said, but it was clear from the odd combination of deference and excitement that Azhar was no stranger to this village—or he had not been in the past. He was smiling, relaxed and at ease, showing none of the discomfort that had been apparent when faced with the huge show of adulation the first day they had arrived in Al-Qaryma, and again, on the first occasion they had visited Johara. Though now she thought about it, on the second visit to that oasis, Azhar had been as he was here, quickly discouraging the formal greetings and encouraging his people to approach him.
His people. They clearly were his people, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and he was every inch the ruler of those people too, whether or not he wanted to admit that either. Such obvious affection and respect did not stem from what was due but what had been earned.
Unsure of her reception, unwilling to detract attention from Azhar, and embarrassed once more by her limited Arabic, Julia would have happily remained in the background, but he seemed to have other ideas, indicating that she join him. Though her veil was firmly in place, her bright plait of hair and pale skin betrayed her foreign origins. She kept her eyes down, feeling absurdly shy, raising them only when a little ripple of applause broke out in response to Azhar’s introduction.
‘I told them that you are a famous English botanist, come to study our plants and to tell the world of the beauty of our desert,’ Azhar told her. ‘This is Fatima, a friend of Johara and also a noted herbalist,’ he added, introducing the older woman. ‘She says she has some plants which may interest you. Do you wish me to come with you, to translate?’
‘No, no,’ Julia replied hastily, ‘I would not deprive all these people who are clearly eager for your company after so long.’
‘This was a favourite place of mine, back in the—when I was—before. One of our best swordsman is a native of this village. He is the Chief of the Guards at the palace, and taught me how to fight with a dagger as well as a scimitar. Fatima is his sister. Go with her, I can see she is eager to impart her knowledge,’ Azhar said, translating his words into his own language for the sake of the other woman, and receiving a beaming nod in return.
* * *
She was gone a full hour, and could have spent another three in Fatima’s company. Compared to the other oases Julia had visited, this village was arid, so the small selection of hardy species which clung to life here was quite different from anything she had so far collected and documented. She took no samples, for the numbers of plants were sparse and she had no wish to disturb this fragile habitat, but her pencils flew over the paper as she took likeness after likeness, managing at the same time to extract sufficient information as to life cycles and usage with a combination of simple words and gestures.
Returning to the canopied tent in the centre of the village, she wholly expected Azhar to be waiting impatiently for her to leave, but instead found him seated on a large cushion surrounded by a cluster of men and women, all of whom seemed to be talking at once. Mindful of her allotted role as objective observer, though she could not imagine what it was she would be expected to observe, Julia helped herself to a small plate of food and sat down on the periphery. The mood of the villagers seemed to be indignant. There was much shaking of heads and vehement denials of something. Whatever Azhar was saying, the villagers didn’t like it, to the extent where their indignation threatened to overcome their innate respect for their Prince. One man actually jumped to his feet, gesticulating wildly. Another said something that sounded inflammatory. The response was a shocked and suspenseful silence as they waited for Azhar to respond. As the silence stretched so long as to make the tension palpable, the man shuffled his feet, colour darkening his face, but when Azhar finally spoke his tone was mild, bidding the man to sit back down, and to explain the source of his anger, as far as Julia could understand.
A small hand tugging at her cloak distracted her. She looked up to find not one but three children staring at her, and smiled. They needed no further encouragement, dropping on to the carpets which had been spread over the dusty ground, staring up with wide-eyed fascination at this unfamiliar and exotic stranger. On impulse, Julia opened her notebook at a fresh page and began to sketch. The simple line drawing of a camel was a resounding success. She tore out the page to be passed around and then drew a horse, which was met with the same reception. Morwenna, her father’s fat cat smiling malevolently at a mouse drew gales of laughter, encouraging Julia to abandon reality for the creatures who inhabited the Cornish tales she had loved as a child: a fantastical sea creature rearing out of the waves; a mermaid on a rock combing her fingers through her seaweed hair; and a wispy, wraith-like siren rising from the marshes. The smallest children fought to sit on her lap as she drew, watching entranced as her pencil flew over the paper. Fascinated fingers tugged at her long plait of red hair. Each drawing was greeted with bursts of laughter, awed exclamations, and cries for more and yet more. Only when a pair of much larger hands relieved her of her latest sketch did Julia become conscious of the time that had passed.
Azhar crouched down to examine the drawing of an absurdly beautiful fairy with gossamer wings, while the most curious of the children, a fairy-like creature herself named Amira, peered over his shoulder. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘A Bucca,’ Julia replied. ‘They live in the tin mines and in the caves in Cornwall. If you see one, then you can be sure a storm is coming.’
Azhar handed the drawing to the little girl and helped Julia to her feet. ‘I fear that a storm of a different nature may well be coming here,’ he said grimly.
‘Some of the villagers certainly seemed agitated.’
‘I thought at first that they resented my enquiries,’ Azhar said. ‘Like you, I saw the anger, but I assumed it was directed against me—my absence. It seems, however, that I insulted them when I asked why the yields from the mine had decreased so radically. They thought I was accusing them of idleness when they insist they work as hard and as productively as ever.’
‘So this mine too is not performing as well as you expected,’ Julia asked.
‘According to the accounts, and to the Chief Overseer of the diamond mines, who sits on the Council. He is a man of considerable experience, he inherited the position from his father before him. But his accounts do not tally with the word of these miners.’
‘What about the other mine that you visited?’
Azhar shook his head. ‘I spoke only in general terms regarding working conditions to the miners there. I had no reason to question the yields quoted by the Chief Overseer. The mines are very old, it is not inconceivable that over time...’
He broke off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘I have a horrible feeling that with each question I ask, I dig another shovelful of sand from my own grave.’
His tone was rueful, but his eyes were troubled. ‘You could always refrain from digging any deeper,’ Julia said, knowing that the suggestion was impossible.
‘Unfortunately, my instincts insist that I dig deeper. If the Chief Overseer has been systematically defrauding the Treasury, then it is best that I uncover it now, and resolve the issue on Kamal’s behalf.’ Azhar shook his head. ‘It is time we left, we have another two hours ride before we reach our camp for the night. Was your time spent with Fatima profitable?’
‘Extremely.’
‘And you have made a number of new friends, I can see,’ Azhar said, smiling down at the children. ‘Though their demands seem to have prevented you from enjoying your food.’
‘I forgot all about it,’ Julia said, looking at her almost full plate in surprise. ‘Will you catch us a hare for dinner?’
‘I think I may be able to do slightly better than that,’ Azhar said intriguingly. ‘Shall we go?’
* * *
He was silent and pensive as they journeyed further east, brooding over what he had learned. His remark about digging his own grave had been intended to be flippant, but in truth the situation was both serious and concerning. To accuse such a senior figure as the Chief Overseer of dishonesty was unprecedented. The very nature of the role and the sums involved demanded unimpeachable probity. The holder of the post must enjoy the complete trust of the King. That the man was also a member of Council—Azhar would have to have incontrovertible proof. Punishment for such a crime would be grave, but the dishonour it would bring not only to the perpetrator, but to his whole family was almost worse. He had to be very sure of his facts, for the consequences were so dire for all concerned, including him. Such an accusation had not been made in living memory.
Yet if it was true, the light it cast on Kamal’s judgement was also extremely worrying. If the man proved to be corrupt, it would reflect very poorly indeed upon his brother’s astuteness. It was one thing to prop Kamal up, quite another to expose him as gullible, though how such a heinous offence could be kept quiet, even if it was for the good of the kingdom—but here Azhar drew his thoughts to an abrupt halt. If the matter proved to be as grave as it seemed, Kamal must deal with the consequences. Azhar could identify the issues, he could even assist with putting a strategy in place to deal with them, but the longer-term implications were his brother’s problem.
Azhar had his own business to return to. A business which he had created, nurtured and expanded, and which must be suffering from his prolonged absence, no matter how diligent his agent might be. Freedom. It was tantalisingly close. He must keep that goal as clearly in sight as Julia did. In a little over two weeks, freedom would be his, secured at an even greater cost than he had anticipated when he first arrived. Every passing day brought new concerns to the surface. Every question he asked begat only more questions. He was weary of it.
A little over two weeks was all the time he had left with Julia. He didn’t want to think about that either. Tonight, he would forget all of it. Today he had played the Prince, tonight he would be simply a man alone with a desirable woman in the middle of the desert.
* * *
The camp was set up on the edge of the small oasis, which was little more than a deep round pool and a stand of palm trees. The two tents sat at right angles to each other, their tastefully striped coverings and decorative golden tassels a far cry from the simple construction that Julia had last camped in. A thick rug was spread on the sand in the awning of the larger tent of the two. A fire was set ready to be kindled. Lamps were hung from the awnings, ready to be lit. The sun was already setting behind them as they arrived, casting a golden glow over everything.
‘What do you think?’ Azhar asked.
Julia stared at the scene in wonder. ‘Is this real? It looks quite fantastical. How on earth did all of this get out here in the middle of the desert?’
‘I ordered that it be so.’
‘And here, as if by magic, it is. Is this one of the treats you promised me?’
‘I wanted your lasting memory of the Qaryma desert to be much more pleasant than your last experience,’ Azhar said, helping her from the saddle.
‘Drugged, robbed and left for dead. Until you came along and saved me, that is.’ She undid her veil and pulled off her headdress, shaking out her heavy plait of hair. ‘When I am back in Cornwall, my memories of Qaryma will not be of the desert, magical and beautiful though it is, they will be of you and our fleeting time together.’
‘Then we must make the most of what little time we have left,’ Azhar said.
The sun was disappearing fast from the horizon. The air was cooling rapidly. The thick silence which heralded the transition from day to night descended. Julia caught his gaze. ‘And what, pray, does making the most of it involve?’
Azhar’s smile was sensual. ‘That very much depends on you.’
‘Actually,’ Julia said, pushing his headdress back to run her fingers through his hair, ‘I too have resolved to make the most of our precious time together.’
‘And what, pray, does that entail?’
She rested her hands on his shoulders and stood on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his ear. ‘That very much depends on you,’ she whispered.
His hands tightened on her arms. Julia nipped the lobe of his ear. She was nervous. What if he rejected her? What if he thought her overtures foolish, or naïve or simply unexciting? She knew that such thoughts were self-destructive, but they crept in, hovering at the edge of consciousness as she pressed a kiss to his jaw. It was rough with the day’s growth. Her own skin was gritty with the sand that permeated everywhere. She felt hot and damp and singularly ill suited for seduction. Defeated, she stepped back. ‘I think I’d like to freshen up.’
But as she turned away, Azhar pulled her back into his arms. ‘In a moment.’ He tilted her face up, to look into her eyes. ‘Julia, whatever you are thinking, be assured that you are wrong.’
‘You can’t possible know what I’m thinking.’
He stroked her cheek, trailing his fingers down her throat. ‘Have you forgotten what I told you, that there is nothing more effective in igniting a man’s desire than a woman’s passion? To see the fire in your eyes, to feel the fire in your blood as you touch me, it sets me on fire too. Do you remember?’
‘I hadn’t forgotten, but...’
‘You are the most desirable woman I have ever met, Julia.’ Azhar kissed her eyelids. ‘I look at you, and I am aflame.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I want you as I have never wanted another woman.’ He pulled her tight against him. ‘You can do nothing that will quell that passion. Everything you do ignites it. Do not be afraid, Julia.’
‘I’m not afraid.’
‘Then forget what has happened in the past. You are not that person. Not now, not here.’
She nodded. She closed her eyes. She twined her arms tightly around his neck. And when she put her lips on his, she discovered it was very easy indeed to do exactly what he asked of her.
He tasted of salt and sand and heat. His mouth was warm, his lips soft, his hands feather light on her shoulders, her back, her sides, setting her pulses racing, setting her skin tingling. Did her touch do the same to him? He said so, and he wouldn’t lie, but...
‘Julia?’
She dragged open her eyes.
‘Stop thinking.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not? You had no problem switching that clever mind off the last time,’ Azhar said.
Her insides clenched in anticipation, but she shook her head. ‘The last time it was—you were—it was for me. I want to reciprocate, only—only I am not sure what to do or how to do it,’ Julia finished on an embarrassed whisper.
‘You do not have to—I told you, I take my pleasure from yours, Julia.’
‘I know.’ She risked looking at him, and discovered that his eyes were dark with desire. It gave her courage. ‘I want to know if it’s the same,’ she said with a small smile. ‘Whether I can take my pleasure from yours. Will you help me find out?’
His laugh was deep, throaty and intensely arousing. ‘You are the most surprising woman I have ever met. Has any man ever been asked such an irresistible question?’
‘Does that mean you will?’
He caught her roughly to him, kissing her deeply. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It means that I will. With pleasure. In fact with what I am certain will be mutual pleasure.’
